


The Bet

by ladyprydian



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Multi, No Angst, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyprydian/pseuds/ladyprydian
Summary: “It was your idea Geralt!” Jaskier says. “ ‘Why don’t you cheat Jaskier’ you said-”“I did not say that!” Geralt growls.“ - so if I’m going to cheat you’re going to cheat with me!”“No Jaskier, absolutely not!”“Please Geralt. It’s just for December. Be my boyfriend for a month.”Note: Please do not redistribute my fanfiction on other archives or sites without my express permission. Thank you.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 183





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Lolahardy, Amysnotdeadyet, and mycitruspocket for the cheerleading. Also to Amy for the betaing. Any mistakes you find are my own.

As the calendar tips over to November 1st, the first thing Jaskier does in the morning is throw up. He prides himself on getting to the bathroom in time so he throws up in the toilet and not all over himself. He’s moaning into the toilet bowl when he feels a cool cloth is placed on the back of his neck. His moans of pain became those of relief. 

“Here.” A hand came into his field of vision holding two white pills. “Unless you’re going to throw up again, then don’t take them until after you do.”

“Bleargh,” groans Jaskier. He sags back against the tub, mostly to get away from the smell of sick. His roommate, Geralt, is in front of him. Two pain killers in one hand. The other holds the blue plastic mug that Ciri drinks from when she’s with Geralt. Jaskier would say something about using Ciri’s special mug but there is wisdom in Geralt's choice. It’s likely in his weakened hung-over state that he would drop a glass. 

“Give them here, then,” he croaks at Geralt. The pills are handed over first. Followed by the cup which holds blissfully cold water. Jaskier sighs in relief. 

“You look like shit and smell worse,” Geralt says, not pulling his punches as he takes back Ciri’s cup. 

“Thanks,” Jaskier says. He tries to roll his eyes but that causes his head to throb. “Ow” he mutters.

It was a great Halloween party, the night before. Not that he can remember much past 10 pm or so. But if he’s this hung-over, it was clearly fantastic. Though it does beg the question on how he got home. That question must have shown on his face because Geralt says:

“Priscilla was your only sober friend. She brought you home and woke me up at 2 am because you wouldn’t give her your keys so she could open the door. She was kind enough to not dump your ass on the porch and leave it at that.”

“Ahh,” Jaskier says. “Um, well I’m sorry about that.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replies. “Get cleaned up. I’ll make breakfast.” He says, closing the bathroom door behind him as he leaves.

Despite not wanting to move, the thought of feeling less like hot garbage that’s been run over by a truck is a heady one and it spurrs Jasker into slow action.

+++

Clean and dressed in soft sweatpants and a hoodie, Jaskier follows his nose to the kitchen. Despite the protesting grumbling from his stomach, the scent of bacon and coffee lures him in. 

He scrolls through his various social media apps for any reminder of last night. Facebook and Twitter show nothing incriminating so it’s looking like he got off easy this time. A killer hangover for sure but it’s not like he hooked up with a random stranger (again), or that he decided to strip and run naked down the street (again), or that he tried to make a move on his roommate (unconfirmed. Geralt doesn’t use social media so that one is hard to determine until Jaskier asks and he's not about to ask.).

He switches over to Instagram to view the likes and comments on his post from last night. That is something he does remember. Before leaving for the party, he asked Geralt to take photos of him in his costume. 

For Halloween, he was dressed as a medieval bard in a blue doublet and hose. The doublet is trimmed with gold coloured lace. Underneath he had a fine cotton shirt with delicate embroidered details. No hat, but he did have his lute. Geralt took the photo of Jaskier outside, under the oak trees in the backyard. Ciri’s tire swing tied off to the side so it was out of frame. 

In the photo Jaskier was sitting under the tree, the golden autumn light glinting off the doublet’s embroidery as he strummed the lute. The photo had thousands of likes and comments. The high he gets from those numbers almost makes him forget about his hangover. 

He’s reading through the comments as he plops himself down at the table. He doesn’t bother going into the kitchen. Geralt had banned him from the kitchen shortly after Jaskier had moved in.

That was three years ago when Renfri, a mutual acquaintance, introduced them. Jaskier needed a new place to live and Geralt was looking for a roommate to help pay the mortgage on the house he bought. Despite their very different personalities they got along. Divvying up chores and expenses. At this point, everything is quite settled and comfortable between them. Geralt does the cooking while Jaskier does the only kitchen thing he is allowed to do, the washing up. Or, more accurately, filling and emptying the dishwasher. Geralt does the outside lawn work while Jaskier does laundry. They split the vacuuming and bathroom cleaning.

Jaskier closes Instagram as a plate is placed in front of him, He inhales the fragrant steam of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. Setting his phone aside he reaches for the coffee pot.

“Any plans for the day?” he asks, as Geralt sits down with his own plate and tucks in. Unlike Jaskier, Geralt is dressed. Well dressed like he’s going to the farm. He’s in faded jeans, a black t-shirt and plaid flannel shirt. His white hair is pulled back into a small bun at the nape of his neck. He looks soft and cuddly, and that he’s about to go do something manly.

“Going over to help Eskel with a fence,” he mumbles around a mouth of food. “He said the goats managed to take out the one in Triangle field. Dad’ll probably supervise the whole thing.”

“Have fun,” Jaskier says, pushing aside the thought of curling up in Geralt’s lap and dumps three heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee cup. “Say hi to Roach for me,” he adds knowing full well that Geralt would take the time to exercise his horse if he was going over to the farm. 

Geralt hums in acquiescence.

The farm is still Vesemir’s even if Eskel runs it. Vesemir is technically Geralt’s uncle, not his father. Geralt’s mother had dropped him off there one summer when he was 4 and never returned. Eskel and Geralt are cousins. The best Jaskier has surmised is, he arrived on the farm a year or two after Geralt. Lambert, their third brother but actually some sort of second or third cousin one removed, showed up when Geralt was 10. 

It was all a bit nebulous. The boys called Vesemir ‘Dad’ even though he isn’t and each other brother even though they aren’t. In all honesty, Jaskier doesn’t ask much about it. Sometimes you make a family. Sometimes you’re stuck with your family. The four of them get along and that is more than the relationship Jaskier has with his parents and siblings. 

He takes his time, munching on his breakfast and sipping his coffee. Geralt on the other hand motored through his and was soon pulling on his boots. 

“I’ll be back later this afternoon,” Geralt says as he pulls on his jacket.

Jaskier waves him off and decides that after he’s got the dishwasher running he is going back to bed. 

+++

A full belly and a long nap tempers Jaskier’s hangover headache to a dull roar. When he gets up that afternoon he putters around the house. Throwing a load of laundry in the machine and doing a general tidy. 

It isn’t until mid-afternoon when his phone pinges with a text message that he even thinks to look at those. When he does he feels abject horror swoop through him.

It’s not that he forgot about his new year resolution / bet. Rather, he ignored it. He should have known better because it involves Valdo Marx.

Back in December of the previous year, he was invited to Virgina de Stael’s opulent Christmas party. As retired dean of the faculty of fine arts, she continues to enjoy hosting the department in her penthouse for various occasions. The best attended event is her Christmas party. Gossip and alcohol flow liberally and the food is free. Meaning the entire faculty shows up. 

Jaskier had a great time drinking champagne and eating his weight in finger food. Naturally most of the conversations were about the upcoming semester, Christmas plans and New Year resolutions. For the resolutionists, most were saying things like “go to the gym more” or “eat fewer refined sugars” or “take a vacation”. Jaskier in his romantic heart of hearts declared his resolution to find a boyfriend. 

It was Valdo Marx that turned the resolution into a wager. “I bet you’ll be alone at Christmas,” Valdo said with a sneer. 

“I bet you I won’t!” Jaskier intelligently replied. He was already tipsy drunk at the time and four drink Jaskier is a ‘I am going to start a fight’ Jaskier.

“You’re too needy,” Valdo said calmly. His eyes boring into Jaskier like he was staring into his soul. “Oh sure. You’re pretty enough that you’ll have no trouble fucking your way through a bunch of people over the next year. But none of them will stick. No one can put up with you for very long.” 

Jaskier was speechless, unable to do much more than gape like a fish. Valdo’s accusations hurt. Yes, he was flighty and was easily distracted. Countless times in his life he’s been told how annoying and clingy he is. Boyfriends, girlfriends, hell even his own mother had said as much at one point. 

“Harsh,” Essi, who was standing beside Jaskier, muttered.

Valdo just waved her objections away. “Just being honest.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore, so I’m going to meet someone this year and they’re going to stick!” Jaskier replied. 

“Words, pretty words,” Valdo said. 

“I bet you one thousand dollars that I can and will have a boyfriend by December!” Jaskier shouted. 

“Make it two thousand,” Valdo said, sticking out his hand. “Next year. At Virginia’s Christmas party, you bring your boyfriend or you owe me.” 

“Fine!” Jaskier slapped his hand into Valdo’s and they shook in agreement. It wasn’t until the next day, when a text from Essi reminded him of the bet. 

Now it’s November the 1st with nary a boyfriend in sight, only 30 days left to find one and prove Valdo wrong. That he is the kind of person someone wants to be around and spend their life with.

Mercifully, Valdo wasn’t at last night’s Halloween party. Probably because it wasn’t hosted by Virgina. But Essi was and in a series of texts that afternoon she reminds him of the bet he is about to lose if he didn’t get on it right away. 

“Oh I’m fucked,” Jaskier moans to himself. 

+++  
It’s late in the afternoon and Geralt should be back soon, but Jaskier is hungry and he needs something to tide him over. He’s standing in front of the fridge staring at rule number one, written in Geralt’s block letters, with a black felt tip marker, on the piece of paper that is stuck to the fridge with a magnet Ciri made.

Jaskier will never attempt to cook anything in the oven, microwave or toaster oven without adult supervision.

‘Adult’ is underlined three times.

It’s also, insultingly, the only rule on the page. 

That happened after he and Ciri tried to bend the rule and bake a cake. It resulted in a spectacular mess and extensive pillaging of the first aid kit. So really, it’s a fair rule what with the number of kitchen fires or messes he’s caused in his lifetime. But it never helps his situation when he’s hungry and Geralt isn’t home. He could have a bowl of cereal but they’re out of Lucky Charms and Geralt's healthy muesli makes him sad. 

He’s also mopeing about how he he really wants to forget this whole year and that stupid bet with Valdo Marx. Earlier, he scrolled through his phone to see if there was anyone he met in the past year who was worth calling. Trying to make something, anything, work. But a good three quarters of the time he got laid this year it was a one night stand. 

At this rate, he’s going to die alone. 

Relief floods through him when he hears Geralt’s truck pull up into the driveway. The man himself appears a few minutes later looking tired. Smelling of hard work, horse and a hint of goat. 

“Don’t even think about it, Jask,” he says when he sees Jaskier standing in the kitchen. 

“I wasn’t! I didn’t! I haven’t done anything!” Jaskier replies.

Geralt stares at him. “Gimme half an hour,” he says. “To have a shower and then I’ll make us dinner. Burgers okay?”

“Yeah sure, fine.” Jaskier slinks off to the living room and queues up the Great British Bake Off to comfort watch. 

+++  
“Geralt this is serious! I’m going to have to give Valdo my hard-earned money!” Jaskier cries, throwing himself down onto the sofa in a dramatic fashion. “He’s going to hold it over me. Hold. It. It’s a physically painful thing to consider. It makes my soul ache!”

They’re post-dinner relaxing in the living room. While Geralt made dinner Jaskier regaled him with the story of the stupid, irritating, asshole (Jaskier’s exact words) Valdo Marx and the bet. 

“Valdo fucking Marx took advantage of drunk me to place a bet on my resolution to have a boyfriend by the end of this year. I have to win Geralt. I have to! I don’t want to owe him anything,” Jaskier says. 

“How did he take your resolution and make it into a bet?” Geralt asks, pausing the video game he started playing while Jaskier cleaned up. He sets the controller to the side.

“It’s Valdo, Geralt,” Jaskier says, his eyes widening for emphasis. He sits up straight, one hand clutching at his chest. “He hates me because five years ago I got the tenure position and he didn’t. I’ve tried to talk to him about it and he gets angry and insults me.” 

Geralt nodded. Jaskier had told him this before. Five years ago a tenure job came up in the music department. At the time both Jaskier and Valdo were sessional instructors, and both applied. According to Jaskier, on paper their credentials were similar, almost identical. 

In the end, Jaskier was offered the job and Valdo has been bitter ever since. It could have just come down to who interviewed better. Or maybe it was a coin toss. Only the hiring committee knows the reasons. It was the end of any collegial relationship they may have had. 

Geralt hasn’t met Valdo Marx but from the way Jaskier speaks about him they have never got along. Privately, he wonders if there is more than just the tenure thing. He’s never asked Jaskier but he always wondered if there wasn’t a one sided relationship there. 

Jaskier, he had to admit, was a handsome man. There was something boyish about his floppy brown hair and bright blue eyes. He brought a brightness and noise into Geralt’s home. But it was Jaskier’s hands that Geralt noticed first. Long slim fingers calloused from years and years of guitar strings. They could fly over a fret board as fast as they flew over piano keys. So very different from Geralt’s own hands, broad and square. 

“You were ‘fight me’ drunk, weren’t you?” Geralt asks, arching an eyebrow. 

“Yes, I was ‘fight me’ drunk,” Jaskier says with a moan slumping back down so his head is beside Geralt’s thigh. He grabs a pillow and wails into it for emphasis. “I don’t want to lose! He’s been searching for years for something, anything, to hold over me.” Jaskier says, muffled by the pillow. “He’ll never shut up about it.”

Geralt pats Jaskier on the head. His hair is soft and fluffy. He wants to sink his fingers into it but doesn’t and pulls his hand away. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Jask,” he says. Jaskier’s reply is a low sounding groan that’s muffled by the pillow. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt asks after a pause where the background music for his game loops. “Are you trying to suffocate yourself so you don’t lose a bet?” 

“Yes,” Jaskier mumbles. 

Geralt puts his hand on the pillow and slowly starts pressing down. It takes Jaskier a second to realize what he’s doing. Squawking and thrashing, he swats blindly at Geralt’s hand. Chuckling Geralt lets go and Jaskier takes the pillow from his face.

“Stop it you unmitigated bastard,” says Jaskier with a huff. Clutching the pillow against his stomach. “You’re mean! Cruel to me in my hour of need!” 

Geralt chuckles again. There is a furrow to Jaskier’s brow and he’s chewing his lip as he stares at the ceiling. Silence hangs between them, an unusual occurrence with Jaskier. Just the whirring of the fan of the Playstation and the music. “Do you want to talk some more about it?” Geralt asks, wondering if there is anything he can do. 

“No,” says Jaskier, morose. He takes the pillow from his chest, drops it off to the side and rolls over so he’s facing the back of the sofa. “Go back to your game.” 

Geralt looks at him. Jaskier is curled up tight, as if he can push the bad feelings away if he just makes himself small enough. Geralt’s heart aches for him and once again he wishes he could do more to help. He sighs quietly then returns to his game. 

“It sounded like a good bet at the time,” Jaskier says a little while later. He rolls and shuffles himself around so he’s upright and leaning against Geralt’s side. Staring, unseeingly at the tv. It’s nice, Geralt thinks to himself, to have Jaskier’s warmth pressed up against him. 

“Why don’t you text one of the people you dated this year. Ask them to fake it with you so you win,” Geralt says in an offhand manner. Trying to quash the thought of putting his arm around Jaskier and cuddling him closer.

He’s not taking Jaskier’s problem lightly, two thousand dollars is … well it’s a lot. He knows Jaskier is financially fine with paying it. His tenure position at the university pays well and comes with health benefits and other perks. 

He’s doing fine himself. His small accountancy business has a number of steady customers and he’s able to work from home or change his schedule should something come up with Ciri. Even if he had to spot Jaskier the money neither of them would be dipping into an emergency fund any time soon. 

“Geralt! Are you suggesting I cheat!” Jaskier exclaims, sitting up straight and pushing himself off as he makes a shocked face. “I am scandalized that you, of all people, would suggest such a thing.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hums, his side is now cold without Jaskier pressed against it. He looks Jaskier dead in the eye. “You either don’t have or can’t remember any of the names of the people you slept with this year. Can you?”

Jaskier scoffs. “Yes I can!” He retorts. Geralt grins at him. Jaskier is a bad liar and he can tell that Jaskier already went through his contact list and found nothing. 

“Mmhm,” Geralt hums with a smile.

“I can but I won’t do that! It’s … it’s .. well it’s cheating Geralt! Unethical!”

“Oh because you're a paragon of ethics now are you?” Geralt teases. 

“Besides,” Jaskier continues, ignoring him “I really, really, do actually want a relationship to stick this time.” Jaskier trails off, chewing his lip as he looks at Geralt contemplatively. 

‘Oh no,’ Geralt thinks to himself. “Jaskier…” he warns. 

“It was your idea Geralt!” Jaskier says. “ ‘Why don’t you cheat Jaskier’ you said-”

“I did not say that!” Geralt growls. 

“ - so if I’m going to cheat you’re going to cheat with me!”

“No Jaskier, absolutely not!”

“Please Geralt. It’s just for December. Be my boyfriend for a month.”

“I have Ciri for December, what the fuck am I going to say to her? Or Yen for that matter?” Geralt asks. 

“We can let them in on it, Ciri will think it's a game. Kids love games right? And Yennefer well she’ll probably ... um.”

“Yes ‘um’, she will murder me if Ciri’s feelings get hurt and then I will murder you for suggesting this!”

“So you’ll do it, then?”

“Fuck!” Geralt exclaims, tosses the controller to the side, and storms out of the room. 

“Well then,” Jaskier says to the empty room. 

+++  
November flies by faster than Jaskier wants to acknowledge and he finds himself staring down December 1st like it is a loaded gun. Until the middle of the month, things were frosty between Geralt and himself. 

Geralt, Jaskier had to admit, was right. Lying to Valdo is one thing but lying to Ciri isn’t something he wants to do. He respects her too much, he respects Geralt too much. So he apologized for the suggestion and Geralt being the good, responsible adult that he is, accepted the apology and that was that. Things back to normal. 

Here’s the thing, Jaskier has always, since day one of them meeting, had a teensy crush on Geralt. By teensy he means a whopping great big one. It started as infatuation. Geralt is, in Jasker’s opinion, a stunning man with his broad chest and that chiseled jaw.

But what was lust, bended, turned and curled itself into love. He’s seen how Geralt loves his family. He calls Vesemir every few days and Ciri once a week. He’s still close friends with Yennefer. How he uses dry humour to tease his brothers (and Jaskier). How he’s a strong presence in Ciri’s life but loves to play with her. There was that wonderful day when Ciri was 6 and they invited him to join the tea party they were having. Geralt wearing a pink feather boa and yellow straw hat as he drank pretend tea from a tiny plastic cup. 

So yes, it all makes Jaskier’s heart pitter-patter and, as ashamed as he is at what he suggested, he wishes it could be true. He’s just not sure how to go about making it so. The balance they’ve struck in their co-habitation friendship is a comfortable one, and he doesn’t want to disrupt it.

It’s Thursday night, the last Thursday in November, and it finds them, once again in front of the tv. Not that Jaskier is watching what is on. He’s scrolling through the various social media apps on his phone. Desperately contemplating who he might contact about being a last minute pinch hit for a fake boyfriend. He’s also debating dating apps. His back is against the arm rest and he’s wedged his toes under Geralt’s thigh as it’s a bit nippy in the house and his socks are upstairs. 

He needs to figure this out, get out of the bet somehow or find someone to play along with him. A dating app maybe or should he just go on Craigslist? That could be risky though because what if Valdo see’s his post? Maybe he should just fake his death and be done with it but that would involve so much paperwork. He heaves a sigh in frustration. 

“I’m picking up Ciri on Saturday,” Geralt says apropos of nothing, patting Jasker’s ankle to get his attention. Jaskier looks up from his phone. 

“Okay. It will be nice to have her here again.” The house is always so quiet when Ciri is with Yennefer. “Is there anything you need me to do or pick up?” He asks. Of the two of them Jaskier goes into the city to work and thus does a lot of the last minute errands. 

“No, I don’t think so.” Geralt pauses, “Look Jask about earlier this month-”

“No no, Geralt, I completely understand the position I put you in. I don’t want to do that to you or Ciri.”

Geralt nods, “Well, I happened to mention it to Yen over the phone the one day. Ended up hanging up on her because I got tired of the laughter,” he says with a sigh. “Ciri phoned me back three days later. Said Yen finally stopped laughing when my name came up.”

“Right,” Jaskier says, not quite sure where this is going.

“Ciri heard the whole thing, I didn’t realize that Yen had me on speaker,” Geralt says. 

“Oh shit, Geralt I’m sorry,” 

Geralt waves him off with one hand. “Ciri gets it, she thinks it’s hilarious that you would fake date me to get out of paying someone two grand. To be honest,” he says rubbing his chin. “I’m not sure what she thinks is funnier. You trying to get out of paying $2,000 or that it now involves me.”

“So she’d be okay with it?” Jaskier asks to be certain.

“She’s calling you ‘Dadskier’.” Geralt says. 

Jaskier can’t help it, his heart melts at that and he feels a bit wobbly. Ciri was 5 when he moved in with Geralt and she accepted him as part of her life right away. It probably helped that Jaskier brought a lot of colour and noise into the house. He’s been teaching her piano and the guitar and, in his opinion, she’s getting pretty good. 

Along the lines of the rest of Geralt’s family, Ciri is, on paper, his goddaughter. He became her legal guardian, with Yennefer, when Ciri was 2 after her parents and grandmother passed away in a car accident. 

Geralt and Yennefer were together at the time but ended their relationship soon after. Jaskier is glad they remained close friends as it makes custody arrangements easier. For the most part they alternate months. Unless Yen has to travel for work and then Ciri stays with Geralt. 

“Really?” Jaskier asks, the smile on his face wobbling and he can feel his eyes tear up. 

“Don’t be surprised if she tries to con $2,000 out of you herself. Now that you’ve proven you’re an easy mark,” Geralt says. 

“Hell,” Jakier replies. “I’m ready to just give it to her as thanks.”

+++  
“Mum says Dad’s all over your Instagram so it should be easy enough to fake that you and Dad are boyfriends,” Ciri says as soon as she’s in the door. She kicked off her boots, dropped her coat and bag in the hall, and went straight into the living room to find Jaskier. 

Jaskier blinks at her pronouncement. Firstly, Yen follows his instagram? That’s only mildly terrifying. Secondly, Yen _showed_ his instagram to Ciri. Much more terrifying. He can’t remember, but he doesn’t think he has much there that’s incriminating. Not recently at least. If they went far back though...

“Cirilla,” Geralt calls from the hall. “Shoes and coat in the closet, bag in your room.” He says in his best Dad voice. 

“But Dad! This is important!” Ciri wines. Geralt comes into the living room and just folds his arms over his chest. “Fine!” She sighs in that withering way that is unique to pre-teen and teenage girls. 

And whoo-boy is that ever a terrifying thought. Teenage Ciri. 

“Sorry,” Geralt says after Ciri scrambles from the room to pick up after herself. “She’s excited about this for some reason. I think she and Yen have talked about nothing else for the last few days.”

Jaskier can’t help but laugh. Ciri does look like Christmas had come early, bright eyed and impish. She comes running back into the room clutching a bright purple notebook and a pen with glittery pink ink. Jaskier is only a little bit envious of both. 

She flops onto the sofa beside Geralt, leaning her back against his side and props her notebook up on her knees. 

“Okay so battle plan,” she says. 

“Cub,” Geralt warns. 

“Hello Ciri, how are you? How has school been?” Jaskier says rolling his eyes. 

“No Dad, I got this,” she says tipping her head back to look at Geralt. “I’m fine, school is fine and me and Mum planned it out, okay? We got a master plan and we’re gonna win Jaskier that bet because you guys are gonna be SO boyfriends that no one could deny it.”

She flips open the notebook and begins to dictate. 

Ciri’s plans mostly involve traditional holiday things like building a gingerbread house, decorating a tree together, sleigh rides and snowball fights with hot chocolate after. 

(“We don’t have snow,” Geralt said about the snowball fight

“Well duh, Dad. Not yet,” Ciri replied, giving him a look like she wondered where he left his brain.)

“Hmm,” Geralt hums as he looks over Ciri’s head at her list. “This list looks a lot like things you want to do.”

“No!” Ciri shouts. “Well yes, BUT it’s all about the photo ops! He’s only got until Mrs de Stael’s Christmas party to provide proof that you’re dating. And like you’re all over his Instagram but you gotta sell it!” Ciri says.

“She sounds rather like Yen right now, don’t you think? Darling?” Jaskier says over Ciri’s head. She kicks him in the thigh but also grins. 

“Darling?” Geralt asks. It’s not the first time Jaskier has called him a term of endearment. Even when he and Yennefer were together they didn’t use pet names. But it takes on a new meaning now. He feels something possessive in his chest rear it’s head to scent the air. 

“Would you prefer Love? Sweet-cheeks? Honey-bun?” Jaskier asks sweetly. 

“No.” Geralt says to Jaskier but also to the emotion in his chest. He nudges Ciri off him as she laughs. He gets up from the sofa and heads towards the kitchen to start something for dinner. 

“Muffin! Gingerbread! Mistletoe!” Jaskier shouts as Ciri shrieks with laughter. 

“I hate both of you!” Geralt shouts back. 

Teasing aside, Jaskier has to admit, Ciri’s plans - or rather Ciri and Yennefer’s plans because they have the heavy hand of Yen’s meddling about it - are sensible. If he posts more photos of himself and Geralt between now and Virginia’s party, drops a few hints on Twitter and changes his relationship status on Facebook it will help sell it. 

He worries his lower lip a bit while Ciri scribbles something with her glittery pink pen in her notebook. He’s going to have to be careful here. He doesn’t want to play with Geralt and Ciri’s emotions. Let alone himself. 

“So,” he says, picking up the remote for the tv. “What shall we watch while your dad makes dinner?”

+++  
The first Saturday in December finds them at a Christmas and farmer’s market. Not because it was on Ciri’s list but Eskel needs the help. 

The farm has always done fairly well for itself. With Eskel taking over, he brought in a herd of goats and makes cheese from their milk. He sells the cheese at the Saturday morning farmer’s market. He and his girlfriend Triss split the table with Triss selling handmade organic soaps, lotions, creams and oils. The Christmas market is the last for the year. The outdoor space will close for the winter and won't open up again until late May when the first of the spring planting is ready. 

“Good of you to help, Jask,” Geralt says as he puts down the last box from the truck. It was a tight squeeze on their way to the market. Eskel and Triss needed to bring all of their stock. Rather than take Jaskier’s car, he Geralt and Ciri squeezed into the cab of Geralt’s truck, so Eskel could use the flatbed.

“Wha?” Jaskier asks looking up from his phone. He took a bunch of photos of the table and was selecting the best Instagram filter before posting. He also has plans for a TikTok video to show off the wares. Once everyone is out of the way, or maybe he should make that TikTok now as both Eskel and Geralt are bent over organizing the cheese in the mini fridge they brought.

“I’m marketing,” Jaskier says as he opens TikTok and starts a video. Zooming in and out on Eskel’s and Geralt’s asses then turning the camera to face a laughing Triss. She gives him a look letting him know exactly what he’s doing but waves to the camera. He captions the video with ‘@ the Christmas market with the BF, his bro, and @MerigoldSoap come check us out’ then clicks to post. 

“Very nice,” Triss says, while watching Jaskier’s video from her phone. “Very nice indeed.”

“Some of my best work I think,” Jaskier says. 

“Oh, no doubt!” Triss replies. 

Geralt stands, sighs and rolls his eyes at Jaskier. Yes Jaskier is posting to his considerable followers to come and visit their table at the market but also it is another subtle post about being in a relationship. Earlier that week Jaskier changed his Facebook status and sent a few carefully crafted tweets out about a new relationship. When he told them what he’d done over dinner, Ciri made a fuss about step one of their amazing ‘Win Dadskier The Bet’ plan being in motion. 

Speaking of, Ciri comes bounding up to the table. “Grandpa got me a hot chocolate!” She says holding a disposable cup aloft. Vesemir follows at a more sedate pace holding a takeaway tray with four cups and another in his hand. He puts the tray down and starts handing out drinks. 

“Coffee and coffee,” he says, and hands the cups to Geralt and Eskel respectively. “And two lattes,” he hands them off to Triss and Jaskier. 

“Thanks Vesemir,” Triss says, taking a sip of her drink. Vesemir just grunts an affirmative and settles himself on the chair behind the table. “What did you get?” 

“Gingerbread latte,” Vesemir says with a smug smile. “Ciri’s hot chocolate looked good. So does the table,” he says, tapping the table top with one finger. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Eskel says. “Can you cut up some samples for me?” He hands Vesemir a cutting board that has a few unwrapped cheeses and a clean knife on it.

“Sure,” Vesemir sets the board in front of him and begins to cut the cheese up into precise, perfect cubes. 

“Daddy,” Ciri says in a sweet voice. “Grandpa and I saw a place selling fudge. Can we get some?”

“Ooo!” Jaskier exclaims “Fudge!”

“Hmm,” Geralt resigns himself to the two of them getting a sugar high. 

“Here cub,” Vesemir says, shifting to pull his wallet from his pants. He takes a twenty from it and hands it to Ciri who quickly jams it in her coat pocket. “Get yourself whatever you want.”

“Dad,” Geralt warns. 

“Jeeze, we never got twenty bucks,” Eskel mutters out loud while fiddling and straightening the placement of the packages of cheese on the table

“That’s because the three of you boys were shits,” Vesemir says, leaning back in his chair to pop a cube of cheese in his mouth. “I had to go through the business of raising you three assholes. So now I get to spoil my granddaughter.”

Ciri grins at that, hot chocolate and whipped cream on her upper lip. Geralt reaches into his pocket for a napkin to wipe off the mess. She grabs the napkin from him and swipes at her mouth. It’s luck more than anything that she gets it off. Vesemir takes a long loud sip of his latte and smiles at Geralt. 

“Please, Daddy,” Ciri asks and Geralt sighs internally. Triss is laughing behind her cup and Jaskier is waiting beside Ciri the same pleading look in his eyes. 

“You’ll be okay for a bit, Eskel?” Geralt asks. 

“Sure thing,” Eskel says, stepping up to his first customer of the day. 

“Doubt we’ll be too long,” Geralt says, taking Ciri’s hand. 

The three of them wander up and down the aisles. Most are the same vendors as the summer market. Fruit and veg sellers with the last of the fall crop. Small bakeries selling Christmas cookies and other baked desserts, all in easy take away trays. Beekeepers selling honey and farmers selling cuts of beef, pork or chicken. Geralt nods at a couple of people he knows or people they buy from. 

The rest are craftspeople and artisans. He sees jewellery, woodworking, artwork, and pottery. People selling jams, mustards and preserves or wine and spirits. Some local food trucks are there too, the one that sells perogies makes his mouth water. 

‘This is nice,’ he thinks to himself as they make their way along. Stopping to look at trinkets or the odd thing here or there. Someone is selling wrought iron patio sets with laser cut silhouettes on the chair backing. There is one chair with a howling wolf that Geralt finds appealing. 

“Hmm,” he hums to himself in thought. The set with the wolves would look good in the backyard by the fire pit. 

“What’s that, darling?” Jaskier asks, threading his arm around Geralt’s. Geralt indicates with a nod of his head towards the artist and their wares. “Ohh the wolf one is lovely. It would look great in the backyard!” Jaskier exclaims. “Let’s take a better look.” 

“But Dad,” Ciri huffs. 

“Just give me a minute okay, cub?” Geralt asks. “I just want to see it closer, check the price and get the man’s card. Then we’ll get your fudge. 

“Okay,” she agrees. 

As he speaks with the furniture maker he keeps one eye on Jaskier and Ciri who are testing out the different chairs and two seat benches the man has on offer. He smiles watching the two of them try to find the “coolest” fire poker that are also for sale.

The prices are decent. A little bit more expensive than something he could get at a hardware store, but worth it for the laser cutting. The set he likes has a Sold sticker on it so he takes the man’s card instead, saying he’ll get in touch. 

“Come on you two,” Geralt says, slipping the business card into his wallet. 

“It’s this way, Daddy,” Ciri says leading them towards the booth set up with a wide assortment of fudge. 

“What did you think?,” Jaskier asks, linking his arm with Geralt’s again. 

“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Geralt says. “The set I liked is sold but I took the guy's card.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about sparks from the fire pit burning them. Or maybe just whatever cushion you put on the seat. They’re rather hard to sit on,” Jaskier says with a sly smile. Geralt looks at Jaskier who waggles his eyebrows at him suggestively. He can’t help but chuckle at his friend’s ridiculous innuendo. 

“Jaskier?” a voice says. They both turn to look. 

“Ah Priscilla, wonderful to see you here!” Jaskier exclaims. He unwinds his arm from Geralts to hug his friend in greeting. “Geralt this is Priscilla, Priscilla this is Geralt.”

“Yes I know. Wonderful to meet you again Geralt,” Priscilla says, shaking his hand. 

“And you,” Geralt says. 

“I was coming to this today anyway, but I saw your post,” Priscilla says. “Where is this famous cheese stall?”

“Back that way towards the end,”Jaskier says pointing back the way they’ve come from. “Look for Morhen Farms. Geralt’s brother, Eskel, is the owner. Oh and talk to Triss. She’ll be at the same table. She sells lovely soaps and creams. That lavender cream of mine that you like is made by her.”

“Dad! Dadskier! C’mon!” Ciri says as she comes running back towards them. She skids to a stop and tugs on Geralt’s hand. 

“In a moment,” Geralt says quietly. “It’s not going anywhere and Jaskier ran into a friend.”

“This is Ciri, Geralt’s daughter,” Jaskier says, introducing her. “Ciri, this is my friend Priscilla.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Ciri says politely. Then turns back towards Geralt. “I know which one I want, Dad.” 

“Oh?” Geralt asks. 

“Yep! Rocky Road ‘cos it’s got marshmallows in it!” Ciri pronounces. 

“We’re getting some fudge, would you like to join us, Pris?” Jaskier asks. 

“Oh why not,” she says. They make their way over to the booth and stand in line.“Geralt is your roommate, right?” Priscilla asks quietly as they wait their turn. 

“Yes he is, well was, but yes still is.” Jaskier says with a small smile. “We’ve decided we’d like to try dating.” 

“I wondered,” she smiles. “He’s featured a lot in your stories since you moved in with him. And he was really patient with you when I dropped your drunk ass off on Halloween. Found your stubborn insistence that you were fine, even though you were smashed, endearing.” Jaskier groans at the reminder. 

“His daughter is cute too.” Priscilla continues. “She called you…”

“Dadskier, yes. Well I’ve known her since she was 5. Geralt shares custody with … well it’s a long story Pris but Geralt and his ex-girlfriend came into guardianship of her when she was a baby.” Jaskier explains. “They haven’t been together for years but they get along well and it seems to be fine with Ciri.”

“What flavour would you like, Jaskier?” Geralt says, turning to ask. 

“I’m getting Rocky Road and Dad’s getting Maple because he’s boring.” Ciri announces. 

“Oh gosh,” Jaskier says looking at the array. “Well let’s go for the Sea Salt and Caramel. That way we have a bunch of flavours to eat!” Jaskier says and the vendor reaches into the case to get his selection.

“Would you like anything, Priscilla?” Geralt asks. 

“No, but thank you for the offer,” Priscilla says. She and Jaskier step to the side so they’re out of the way of other people wanting to shop. “He’s good for you, Jaskier.” She says quietly as Geralt turns to pay. “You look happy, content in a way I’ve never seen you when you’re in a relationship.”

“Thanks and, he is,” Jaskier says looking at Geralt. He watches as Geralt hands Ciri the paper bag containing their fudge. Telling her gently but firmly no, she can’t eat any right away because she just had a hot chocolate. That they’re going to save for later and share some with Uncle Eskel, Auntie Triss, and Grandpa.

“He might be the one Pris, he’s always been really kind to me and, well, he puts up with me.” Jaskier says. 

“I think he more than puts up with you. I saw you two when you were looking at the furniture. He kept an eye on you and his kid the whole time and not just as a parent keeping their eye on their child. But someone who doesn’t want to look away from the people they love.”

Jaskier’s heart does a funny little flip at that. He has wondered; he’s caught that look a few times. 

“Wait, hold on a second,” he hears Geralt say, eyeing Ciri. “How did I end up paying for this when Grandpa gave you money for it?”

“Whoops!” Ciri gleefully cheers. 

+++  
There is a chill in the air and the clouds are threatening snow. Jaskier is on his way home from the last day of classes for the semester. He’s hoping to get there before the snow starts, when the divine scent of yeast, sugar and warming spices tickles at his nose. 

Cinnamon Spice, a bakery near campus, has their door open. The smell of fresh cookies and bread enticing students and faculty in with their delicious aroma. Instantly he desires a black and white cookie. He’ll get a box and bring some home to Geralt and Ciri, he thinks to himself as he ducks inside. As he waits in line sees a sign. Gingerbread house kits for sale! It proclaims. The kit includes the cookies along with packages of royal icing and sachets of candy needed for decorations. Ten minutes later he walks out of the bakery with half a dozen black and white cookies, a gingerbread house kit, two loaves of bread and a lighter wallet. 

“Brr, it is damp out there tonight,” Jaskier says as he comes in the door. He sets his messenger bag and the bag with the baked goods on the bench by the door as he takes off his coat and shoes. 

“I put a stew on, it’s ready when you are.” Geralt says from the kitchen. 

“Mmm, is that what I smell,” Jaskier says coming into the kitchen with the bakery bag. “I stopped in at Cinnamon Spice. I’ve got some bread and dessert.” 

“Dessert?” Ciri asks, she’s at the kitchen table working on her homework. She looks up excitedly. 

“Cookies!” Jaskier says with a flourish while pulling out the box from the bakery. “Aaannnddd, a gingerbread house kit!”

“Oooo!” Ciri exclaims, coming to the counter to take a look. “You’re the BEST, Dadskier!”

“After dinner and homework,” Geralt says, waggling a finger at the two of them. 

“Awww,” both Jaskier and Ciri moan dramatically before breaking into fits of giggles. 

“You’re Dad’s right. Dessert and fun after dinner. What homework are you working on, sweetheart?” Jaskier asks. 

“Dad helped with math and now I’m working on my english reading.” Ciri says, showing him her english class note book. “I have to write about what I’ve been reading. I’m super close to finishing _Black Beauty_!” 

“Ohh that’s wonderful, darling. Let me see what you have written.” Jaskier says and Ciri pushes her note book towards him. 

+++  
Geralt watches them from the kitchen, he slices some of the ciabatta Jaskier brought home. He brushes it with garlic butter before placing it to warm it in the oven. He can’t help but smile at the two of them, heads bent over Ciri’s notebook. 

There is something there between Jaskier and himself. There has been for a while. Something that built a warm cozy fire in his heart, that crackles away merrily. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time, possibly ever. Something that reared its possessive head and purred at the thought of being Jaskier’s boyfriend. Something he’s trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore.

He watches as Jaskier gently corrects Ciri’s spelling. Getting her to sound out a word she misspelled then spelling it aloud in order to correct it. They high five when she gets it right. Geralt’s heart thumps and his stomach swoops. He turns back to the oven so he can hide his grin. 

Also the garlic bread is ready and there will be a litany of complaints should he burn it. 

He dishes out bowls of stew, thick with lots of vegetables and meat. “Books off the table,” he says. “It’s time to eat.” 

Ciri slides her books back into her backpack so they’re ready for school the next morning. Jaskier gets up to grab cutlery and sets the table. He takes the bowls of stew as Geralt brings over the garlic bread. 

“Did you finish your reading assignment, Ciri?” Geralt asks while they eat. She nods in reply, her mouth full of bread. 

“Yep, she did,” Jaskier adds. “So we can decorate our gingerbread house after!”

Ciri cheers and the dinner conversation devolves into the structural integrity of gingerbread, whether a house really could be made out of it (when Jaskier and Ciri said they think it would be wonderful, Geralt ruins it by mentioning bugs.). Jaskier then starts to sing folk songs he knows about witches and gingerbread houses. 

“Are you going to help us?” Jaskier asks as he and Ciri start to collect the dinner dishes. 

“Maybe in a bit, I have some emails to send,” Geralt replies, as he gets up from the table to go to his office, taking one of the cookies with him as he goes. 

He leaves Ciri and Jaskier to it, knowing they will be distracted for at least the next hour or so. That gives him some time to reply to a few of his clients about Q4 accounts and returns. He’s got a few open files right now, and a few client meetings in the coming days, but should have most of his work finished up for the year soon. 

After sending a number of replies, he sits back in his chair, pulls off his reading glasses, and rubs at his eyes. He takes a huge bite out of the cookie and savours it. His mind wanders, from the moment he met him, Jaskier has been an incredible help with Ciri. Not only with her homework but in general being present in her life. Teaching her silly songs when she came down with a bad case of the chicken pox. Surprising her with a child’s size guitar for her birthday. 

It’s not just Jaskier’s presence in Ciri’s life he’s grateful for. He enjoys their quiet evenings together. Watching tv or when Jaskier is lecture planning and he’s filling in tax forms for clients. The house isn’t quiet when Jaskier is around. He brings a life that Geralt didn’t know was missing until he moved in. 

‘It would be so nice, it would be so easy’ he thinks to himself if he could, somehow, convince Jaskier that maybe this pretend thing didn’t have to be so … pretend. 

He shakes his head. There is a file he should be reviewing before a meeting tomorrow afternoon. Not mooning after his friend and roommate. But there is also laughter and noise coming from the kitchen. It is too enticing and the file can wait. He finishes his cookie, closes the lid of his laptop and heads back to the kitchen. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it isn’t this. The gingerbread house is … standing. Sort of. The roof is collapsing on one side. Icing is smeared all over the walls, one looks like it broke and there was an attempt to stick it back together with more icing but it started to bend. There isn’t a single piece of candy sticking to it. But there is, unsurprisingly, a number of empty candy bags littering the table and a very empty bakery box that, before dinner, held 6 black and white cookies. 

There are also two people moaning under the table. 

“Daddy, my tummy hurts,” Ciri moans when she sees him. 

“No wonder. Did you two eat all that candy, and the icing, and the cookies?” Geralt asks surveying the damage. The bag that held the icing is completely empty. As in, scrunched up like a tube of toothpaste, nothing left in the bag, empty. 

“Ugh Geralt, I think I’m going to barf,” Jaskier moans. 

Geralt can’t help himself. He pulls his phone from his pocket and takes a series of photos. Jaskier and Ciri under the table, icing and cookie crumbs smeared on their faces. The dilapidated gingerbread house, the empty candy wrappers. The perfect blackmail fodder. 

“Come on,” Geralt says, pocketing his phone again. “Up the two of you get.” He offers a hand to Ciri who takes it and he gently tugs her into a seated position then up onto her feet. 

“Daddy I…” she puts a hand to her mouth then sprints to the bathroom. Seconds later he hears the sound of her throwing up. Well, there’s the rest of his evening sorted. 

“Are you about to do the same?” he asks Jaskier who is sitting on the floor and looks very, very green. 

“Um, maybe? I think it might be best if I ...” he sprints to the bathroom as well. Geralt hears Ciri protest Jaskier being there but it’s covered up by the sound of his retching. Which causes Ciri to do the same. Geralt can’t help but wince at the sympathetic loop they’ve caused. 

He takes a moment to take a deep breath. Ignoring the mess in the kitchen for now and heads to the bathroom. Ciri is beside the toilet, tears streaming down her face. Jaskier has thrown up in the bathtub and is coughing and spitting bile. 

“Daddy,” Ciric says tearfully. 

“Shh, Cub shh.” Geralt soothes. Despite her being tall for her age he picks her up easily. She wraps her arms around his neck and her legs about his waist. “All done? Got anymore to come up?” He says rubbing at her back as she presses her face into his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she says in a small voice. 

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I know you know better, both of you. But you’ve learned your lesson,” he says and feels her nod. “Apology accepted. Now let's get you cleaned up.” He shifts Ciri onto his hip and grabs her towel and face cloth. “I’ll be back in a sec, Jask.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jaskier croaks. He’s not teary like Ciri but is looking pretty pale. 

He takes Ciri upstairs to the bathroom he shares with Jaskier. “Dump your clothes outside and I’ll go get your pjs,” he tells her as he gets the water running. After grabbing Ciri’s pyjamas from her room he checks in on Jaskier who is cleaning up the mess in Ciri’s bathroom. 

Jaskier has run some water to clean out the bathtub. The toilet was flushed and he’s wiping it down with some disinfecting bathroom wipes. The extractor fan is running so it smells more of artificial lemon than of sick in there now. 

“You sure you’re alright to do that?” Geralt asks. 

“I made the mess, I’ll clean it up. Oh here,” he hands Geralt Ciri’s soap. The special one that Triss made for her that smells of strawberries. “She’ll want that.” Jaskier still looks pale and sweaty, he sways a little bit. Geralt puts a hand around Jaskier’s elbow. 

“I’ll tell you when Ciri’s done, then you can get cleaned up. Don’t worry about the rest here. I’ll get it,” Geralt says. 

“I’m almost done, I’ll do the kitchen too,” Jaskier says, wobbling a bit before falling against Geralt’s chest. “Oof!”

“You sure about that?” Geralt says with a smile. He puts Ciri’s soap and pyjamas down on the counter top, then wraps his arms around Jaskier. Jaskier shuffles closer and hugs Geralt back.

“I’m never eating sugar again,” Jaskier mutters into Geralt’s shoulder. 

“Hmm, I won’t hold you to that,” Geralt says. It’s nice hugging Jaskier. Warm and solid in his arms. He catches a whiff of Jaskier’s shampoo and his aftershave from that morning. Jaskier’s hair is soft and it tickles at his cheek and nose.

‘I want to kiss him,’ Geralt thinks to himself. He feels a bolt of panic but also a rightness to the thought. That kissing Jaskier is the most natural thing in the world. All warm and soft and perfect. 

He feels Jaskier take a deep breath then gently, hesitantly push away. “Best get her soap and pyjamas up to her, don’t you think?”

Geralt clears his throat, “Yeah.” he mutters and flees the bathroom with Ciri’s things. 

He takes a moment on the stairs to try to calm down. He’s hugged Jaskier before. Many times. That’s nothing new. Jaskier is a tactile person. He hugs in greeting or if Geralt offers him a meal. Or if he’s drunk. The contentment, the rightness of having Jaskier in his arms. The impulse to kiss Jaskier … that’s new. He wants to hold and kiss and never let go. It reminds him of the first time he hugged Yen. Or when he first held Ciri in his arms. He takes a deep breath and sets those feelings aside for later analysis. Right now Ciri needs him. 

‘Ugh’ Jaskier thinks to himself as he makes his way back downstairs. After Ciri finished her bath he went for his own shower and changed into pyjamas. He still feels queasy. It was a monumentally stupid idea to eat that much sugar. Worse, to let Ciri eat that much sugar. 

He cleaned up the kitchen before his shower. The gingerbread … failure now lists to one side on the counter. He makes a face at it as he makes his way to the living room. Geralt and Ciri are already there. Ciri is curled up on Geralt’s lap, sipping at something from her blue plastic mug. 

“Ginger tea,” Geralt says, pointing to the steaming mug on the coffee table. 

“Thanks,’ Jaskier says, taking a seat on the sofa. He doesn’t bother sitting at the other end. He plops himself down right beside Geralt and Ciri and blows on the tea to cool it. The Frosty the Snowman holiday special is playing on the tv. No one is really watching it but the comforting sound of the beloved cartoon is calming. 

He can’t get his thoughts away from the hug he and Geralt had in the bathroom. Geralt isn’t the most tactile of men. He hugs Ciri a lot and never turns down a hug or touch that Jaskier initiates. He lets Jaskier link their arms as they walk or l shove his toes under his thigh when they are together on the sofa and it’s cold. Geralt just doesn’t initiate much touch himself. 

It was a good hug. Out of all the hugs Jaskier has had in his life, clearly in the top 5. Top 3 even. He was feeling shaky and trembling, like he was going to fly apart. Geralt’s arms felt solid, like they could hold him together and keep him together if needed. 

His phone trills with a notification and he digs it from the front pocket of his hoodie. It’s a text from Geralt with the three photos he took earlier. “Wonderful,” Jaskier mutters. “Photographic evidence of our failure.”

Geralt chuckles. 

“Cirilla,” Jaskier says, using her proper name for emphasis and importance. “I want to apologize. I should have stopped both of us from eating so much. It’s my fault we’re both sick.”

“S’okay,” Ciri says from where she’s curled up against Geralt. Looking warm and comfortable. “Apology accepted.”

“How’s the tea?” he asks. She gives him a sleepy look. Crashing from her sugar high. 

“Tastes good ‘cos it’s in my blue mug,” she mutters. Geralt pulls the mug from her hand and sets it aside as it tilts and threatens to spill. 

“Bed time,” he says, lifting Ciri as he stands. 

“Night, Dadskier,” she mutters over Geralt’s shoulder. 

“Good night, sweetheart,” he says back. He looks at the photos Geralt sent. He won’t post the one of Ciri and himself under the table. Not because he doesn’t like it, he loves it. Rather he never posts photos of Ciri without Geralt’s permission. He will post the other two. He opens up Instagram and captions the photos with: 

“#GingerbreadFAIL tried to make a gingerbread house tonight, ended up getting sick on all the candy and icing that we ate. Luckily I have the #BestBoyfriend and he took care of me!”

He hits the post button and closes the app. He doesn’t let himself think about the pang in his heart wishing the hashtag was real. 

+++  
The clouds that were threatening snow earlier that week deliver. By Saturday morning there is a good amount on the ground. It will mostly likely melt into a muddy slush but until it does everything looks pretty. 

At 9 am that morning Ciri and Geralt are in Eskel’s truck, slowly bouncing over the frozen fields of the farm. 

“There are two trees up in the copse by the north pasture that should do,” Eskel says, maneuvering the truck over the rocky frozen ground. 

Geralt hums in agreement. It’s been a while since they cut down a Christmas tree on their property. Generally they buy one from one of the local tree farms but Eskel’s had his eye out while and found two he thought would fit. They also want to give Ciri the experience of cutting one themselves. 

“Grandpa used to do this with you?” Ciri asks. 

“Some years,” Eskel replies. “When he thought one was the right height. Me and your Dad and Uncle Lambert would all go out with him. We’ll plant some trees in the spring to replace the ones we take today.” 

“I remember one year, Lambert was so excited I had to sit on him.” Geralt says with a smile. The memory comes to him in a flash, disrupting his previous thoughts. 

“Ha! Yes!” Eskel says with a laugh. “Grandpa was trying to drive and I was crammed into the middle seat with the gear shift between my legs. Geralt was hanging onto Lambert for dear life.”

“He kept wiggling and elbowing me,” Geralt complains. 

“Yeah, you said you were going to make him walk home if he didn’t stop,” Eskel says as he gears the truck down into low range to get up a hill. 

“Did you make Uncle Lambert walk?” Ciri asks. 

“No,” Geralt says. “He was pretty little then and it was just an idle threat. So I sat on him for the drive back. How old was he then Esk? Six? Seven?”

“Seven I think,” Eskel replies. “And you were Fifteen. Lambert had no chance.”

“It was that or he was going to try to grab the wheel from Dad and kill us all.” Geralt says. 

“Yeah he always had a thing for cars.” Eskel slows the truck to a stop and puts it in park. “We’ll stop here and walk the rest of the way.” 

Eskel leads the way to the trees, an ax over his shoulder and a hatched on his belt. Ciri is in the middle while Geralt follows behind with the chainsaw and gas can from the bed of the truck. 

They’re quiet as they walk and Geralt can’t help but think back to Jaskier when they left this morning. He wanted to join them but was swamped with term papers and finals to grade, and needed a few hours of quiet to tackle the pile. 

“Get us a big one, my lovely lumberjack,” he told Geralt before they left. “One that we can fit piles and piles of presents under!” 

“I’ll get one that will fit in the room, and not bring home anything like that 12 foot monster you argued for last year,” Geralt replied as he pulled on his coat and tucked his work gloves into the pocket. 

He was glad that Ciri was already out of the house as, without thinking, he leaned forward and pecked Jaskier on the lips. Soft, chase, and comfortable. Like he’d done it a million times before and would do it a million more times. It wasn’t until he was out the door that he realized what he had done. 

He sighs inwardly. Nothing to be done until they returned home. Then he can talk to Jaskier about it. He needs to. 

“Here we are,” Eskel says coming to a stop. “This one,” he says pointing to a balsam pine tree. “The other is across the clearing.”

“Right,” Geralt says, setting down the chainsaw and gas can. “I’ll get this going if you’ll clear a few of the lower branches so I can make a straight cut. Ciri, help uncle Eskel by moving the branches he cuts out of the way, but be careful, and when I tell you to move out of the way you move out of the way.” 

It takes them about 10 minutes to fell the tree. It’s not heavy so much as unwieldy. The branches slap at their faces with their sharp pine scent as they bring it back to the truck and lift it into the back. The second tree is further away than the first. Even so, 40 minutes later a bit tired, cold, and getting hungry, they’re slowly bouncing their way back to the farm house. 

“Are we going to decorate the tree today?” Ciri asks. 

“Later this afternoon,” Geralt says. “We’ll help Grandpa and Uncle Eskel get theirs set up. Then Uncle Eskel can drive us back. We’ll set up the tree but leave it to warm up a bit before we decorate.” Geralt says. Ciri nods in understanding. 

He’s distracted with his own thoughts. Of that short peck of a kiss he gave Jaskier. Of how he liked it, really liked it and wanted to do it more. Much more. He’s musing, tumbling the idea over and over in his mind. He knows he is because he can see Eskel glance over at him over the top of Ciri’s head. He’s grateful for his brother when he asks Ciri what she did in school this week. 

“You’re back before I thought you would be,” Vesemir says from the porch. Geralt and Eskel prop the tree up against the wall as they remove their boots. Dirt, pine needles, and snow from the tree is fine. But if they track in mud there’d be hell to pay. “Stand’s set up in the family room. Ciri, go help Triss. She’s getting hot chocolate ready.” Vesemir says. 

Vesemir directs as they maneuver the tree into the stand. Geralt holds it straight while Eskel tightens the bolts that hold the tree secure.

“You all right? You’ve been quiet,” Eskel says, then rolls his eyes at the look Geralt gives him. “Quiet even for you.”

Geralt thinks for a minute then says, “I kissed Jaskier this morning.”

“You did? Finally! Good for you brother,” Eskel says with a smile. “You’ve been pining after him for too long.”

“No, not good. Wait. What? Pining?” Geralt asks. 

“Yeah,” Eskel says succinctly while Vesemir nods.”You two have been pining for each other for a while now.”

“I … shit.” Geralt chews his lower lip. “Um, does Jaskier know? No, don’t answer that. He’s got this bet going on with someone he knows that he’d have a boyfriend by the end of this year. So we’ve been pretending.” Geralt explains. “Argh!” he shouts as Vesemir smacks the back of his head. 

“Ahh… does Ciri know?” Eskel asks sagely, diffusing the argument that will erupt between Geralt and Vesemir.. 

“Ciri and Yen masterminded a whole plan.” Geralt says with a sigh.

“HA! I don’t want to know what that looks like.” Eskel chuckles. “Well, talk to him about it. Maybe he feels the same.” 

“Hmm.”

“No ‘hmm’ about it, Ger. Seriously. Talk to him. Today, preferably. The longer you wait the harder it will get.” 

“Eskel is right, Geralt,” Vesemir says, giving Geralt a disappointed look. “I should be used to it by now but you’ve always been the one to surprise me with your stupidity.” 

Geralt nods, there’s nothing he can say against his brother’s wisdom or his father’s cutting words. He knows it’s true he needs to talk to Jaskier about this. He should have weeks ago. The longer he lets this fester the worse it will get. 

“Oh it’s perfect!” Jaskier exclaims as they get the tree set up in the living room. “And that smell. Oooo! It smells like Christmas now!” 

He managed to make a dent in the pile of grading while Geralt and Ciri were out. Which was surprising considering what happened before Geralt left. The memory of the kiss still echoes on his lips. A tingling that sends sparks up and down his body when he thinks about it. He must have floated back to the kitchen table where he was grading as he didn’t remember walking back there, but was definitely there when came back to reality with a bump. 

They were fake-dating. Emphasis on fake. 

Chewing at his lower lip he stared off into the middle distance. Maybe it wasn’t so bad of an idea. Kissing that is. Well, practicing kissing. They’ll need to do it in a weeks’ time when they are at Virginia’s party. No doubt there will be mistletoe around. 

The invite for the party came into his email last night and he already RSVPed with a plus one. So best to have some practice in so it looks like they’ve been doing it all month. Practice makes perfect. Right? 

“Jaskier, about this morning,” Geralt says, biting his lower lip. Their tree is up and has been for a few hours. He and Jaskier are pulling the boxes of decorations down from the attic. “Look, I..”

“It’s alright!” Jaskier cuts him off. “We should um ... practice anyway.”

“Practice?” Geralt asks. “Kissing?”

“Yes, if we want to sell this fake relationship.” Jaskier says. “Virginia’s party is next Wednesday evening, I RSVPed for us by the way, and judging from the past Christmas parties I’ve attended, there will be mistletoe and we need to look like we’ve kissed before.”

Geralt can’t argue with that. But he feels ... disappointed. “I don’t want to practice.” The words fly out of Geralt's mouth before he can stop them. No. He doesn’t want to practice kissing Jaskier. He wants real kisses, real hugs, and touches. He wants to wake up beside him in the morning and share cuddles on the couch. 

“Alright,” Jaskier says, a hurt look crossing his features. He turns to go back down the attic stairs. 

“No,” Geralt says grabbing his wrist. “No I…” the words seize up in his throat. He clenches his jaw in frustration. He needs to explain his feelings and the words are just stuck. 

“Okay darling,” Jaskier says, patiently touching his arm. “You don’t want to practice and you don’t want me to go. Right?”

Geralt nods tightly. Grateful that Jaskier understands that sometimes words are too much for him. Roughly he pulls Jaskier to him and enfolds him into a hug.

“Oof,” Jaskier says, falling against Geralt’s chest but he hugs back. Geralt tucks his nose behind Jaskier’s ear and breathes for a moment. Trying to calm down the swirling inside him. He feels Jaskier’s hands rubbing at his back and shoulders. Moving in warm, soothing circles. “No practicing but,” Geralt's arms tighten reflexively against Jaskier’s waist. “But I’m thinking, darling, and tell me if I’ve got this wrong. Oh gosh how I hope I don’t have this wrong. But I’m thinking that maybe you’d like some real kissing, hmm?”

Geralt crashes his mouth against Jaskier’s. Their teeth click as Jaskier starts to laugh. “Oh sweetheart,” Jaskier says as he pulls back. He wraps his arms around Geralt’s neck. “Now, let’s try that again.” 

The second kiss is softer. Deeper. They’re about the same height so neither has to bend awkwardly. Jaskier sighs into it, parting his mouth. He feels Geralt do the same. The slight roughness of Geralt’s chapped lips against his own. It’s a good thing Geralt’s strong hands are on his waist as his knees feel wobbly. Should they stop holding him up, he knows Geralt will catch him. 

They break the kiss. Foreheads touch as they share the same air. 

“Jas. Jaskier” Geralt rasps. 

“Yes,” Jaskier says, his own voice low and rough. “Yes, I want this, too.” He feels Geralt heave a sigh of relief.

“Dad, Dadskier?” Ciri’s voice calls up the trapdoor ladder. 

Jaskier chuckles, “Coming, Ciri! Your Dad and I were distracted searching for the last box.” He says tossing Geralt a roguish wink over his shoulder. 

Later that night after the tree is decorated in all its glory and Ciri’s gone to bed they sit close on the sofa. Geralt has his arm around Jakier’s shoulders. 

“I think I’ve wanted this for a long time. Longer than I realized,” Geralt says quietly. “I just ... didn’t realize.” 

“Me too,” Jaskier says snuggling closer to Geralt. “And when I did, I didn’t want to hurt what we already had.” Geralt kisses Jaskier softly on the temple and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m so glad I’m winning this stupid bet for real. Makes it feel less … hollow” 

+++  
“Looking good, Geralt,” Triss says. She’s picking up Ciri for the sleepover they’re having while Geralt and Jaskier are at Virgina de Stael’s Christmas party. She reaches up and tweaks his tie a bit. 

“Thanks, Triss,” He says, then calls, “Ciri, Triss is here!” There is a thump and Ciri comes running from the living room. 

“Hi, Auntie Triss,” she says, giving Triss a hug. 

“Hi, Ciri, got your stuff ready?” Tris asks, hugging her back. 

“Yep!” Ciri chirps, indicating to her backpack and another small purple duffle bag. Triss grabs the duffle as Ciri pulls on her coat and boots. “Can we watch a movie?”

“Sure,” Triss says. “What are you thinking?”

“ _Home Alone_ ,” Ciri says. 

“I bet Grandpa and Uncle Eskel will watch that one with us. They’re ordering pizza right now,” Triss says, handing Ciri her hat and mitts. “Alright say good-bye to your Dad and we’ll be off.”

“Bye, Daddy,” Ciri says hugging Geralt.

“Bye, Cub, I’ll see you tomorrow after school.” Geralt replies hugging her back. 

“Bye, Dadskier!” She shouts. 

There’s a muffled thump then Jaskier shouts from upstairs “Bye, Ciri, see you tomorrow!”

Triss grins, “Have a great night Geralt.” She tosses him a wink as she leaves. 

Geralt can’t help but smile as he closes the door. Then takes another look at himself in the mirror in the hall. Jaskier insisted that he wear his charcoal grey suit and the waistcoat. He paired it with a deep blue shirt. The tie that Triss had tweaked was blue with small silver dots. Pushing back the cuffs he looks at his watch. 

“Jask, we’ve got to leave in 5 minutes,” he calls. 

“I’m here, I’m ready,” Jaskier says as he scrambles down the stairs. He’s also in a suit, a similar grey to Geralt’s but it has a blue and copper check. He paired with a white shirt and navy tie. 

“You look lovely,” Geralt says with a soft smile. 

“You too,” Jaskier says smiling back. “Right, well, shall we go then?” Geralt chuckles and passes Jaskier his coat. They gather the rest of their things and are out the door. Jaskier wordlessly hands Geralt his car keys and with that they’re off. 

The party is already in full swing when they get there. They hand over their outerwear to the man running the coat check as they enter Virgina de Stael’s two story penthouse. Geralt can’t help but be impressed at his surroundings. The floor to ceiling windows, the tasteful decorations, the polished floors, the music coming from the string quartet in the corner.

“I know, right,” Jaskier mutters in his ear. “I was much the same when I was invited the first time.” He takes Geralt’s hand in his as they begin to mingle. 

Geralt is the first to admit he’s not the best at these sort of networking events. To be good at networking one needs to be extroverted, but he’s learned how to fake his way through. Ask an open ended question, listen to the answer and ask two or three follow-ups, then politely move on to someone else. Luckily he’s with Jaskier tonight who knows just about everyone here and is wonderful at introductions and conversations. The most he has to do is keep the conversation polite and banal while being a good boyfriend and keeping Jaskier’s drink topped up. 

“Darling, let me introduce you to our host for the evening,” Jaskier says as they approach an eldery lady. She may be sitting but her posture is regal. From her polished patent leather pumps to the simple string of pearls about her neck, everything about her screams good taste. 

“Julian,” she says, lifting a hand in greeting. Jaskier takes it in his and kisses the top. 

“Virginia! Thank you for inviting us, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Geralt.” 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. de Stael,” Geralt says, taking her hand and giving it a brief shake.

“A pleasure. Now you boys don’t have drinks yet, so go enjoy yourselves,” she says dismissing them so she can greet the next guest. 

They move out of the way and head towards the bar. Jaskier calling out greetings and saying hello to colleagues they pass. The bar is busy but the bartenders are efficient, quickly exchanging orders for glasses. Shortly they find themselves in a little group of Jaskier’s music department co-workers including his friend and officemate, Essi. 

“Did Pris come with you? I haven’t seen her in weeks.” Jaskier asks her, looking around the room. 

“Sadly no, she has a family commitment tonight.” Essi says. “Hopefully next year.”

The talk moves to classes they are teaching next semester, what the seminar lectures look like and the amount of class prep to be done over the holidays. 

“Ahh,” Essi says quietly. “I wondered when Valdo would make his appearance.” She indicates with a tilt of her head towards Virginia where Valdo is making grandiose gestures. 

“Do you think he’s seen us?” Jaskier asks. He feels nerves flood through him and is grateful for Geralt’s warm hand on the small of his back. “Or do you think I’ll actually have to go through the song and dance of introducing Geralt and somehow proving we’re together?”

“I’m sure he knows and is avoiding you so he doesn’t have to say anything about you winning.” Essi says. “In fact I know he knows because I told him about Pris running into the two of you at the Market. Happened to mention to him how cute Pris found you with your boyfriend and his daughter. So yeah, he knows.”

“Essi, you are a gem of a woman, you know that right?” Jaskier says. He steps forward to hug her and kiss her on the cheek in thanks.

“Thank you,” Geralt says with a smile. “For taking away his need to make a scene about this.” 

“Rude!” Jaskier says, making a dramatic shocked face. He steps back into Geralt’s space and Geralt immediately puts his arm around Jaskier’s waist. 

“Come on,” Geralt chuckles. “I won’t deprive you of your dramatic moment. I see some mistletoe over there that I’ll let you take advantage of.” 

“Darling, you’d better,” Jaskier says. 

When they kiss under the mistletoe, they are both smiling.


End file.
